


Marigolds

by castamyre



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), F/F, Flowers, Fluff, Reunions, The Great Fódlan Bakeoff (Fire Emblem), even though it's literally almost four weeks late, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26904433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castamyre/pseuds/castamyre
Summary: Marianne reunites with an old close friend.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Leonie Pinelli
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Marigolds

**Author's Note:**

> _I'm always in the way_   
>  _Nobody does this gracefully_   
>  _I shouldn't be this afraid_   
>  _To take time to feel okay_
> 
> \- Early Eyes, "Marigolds"

Sauin is a deeply familiar name, but Marianne can’t quite place where she’s heard it.

It’s a village. A small, unimportant village, not even marked on some maps, in the northeastern quarter of Gloucester territory. There couldn’t be more than a couple hundred people living in its petty little homes. It sits at the edge of a great forest, and is only serviced by a single road, which itself is just an auxiliary to a much larger Riegan-Gloucester highway. Sauin doesn’t matter much to the outside world, nor does the outside world matter much to Sauin.

And despite it all, Marianne _knows_ she’s heard its name before.

She’s travelling with her father on a mission to the Gloucester estate, and inclement weather had blocked off the aforementioned highway a few days back. Their detour, by chance, had brought them to this tiny, insignificant village for only a brief moment.

“This is Sauin Village,” the driver shouts back to them. There was barely even a sign at the entrance, let alone a gate, or wall, or marked border of any kind. They just... entered.

“Small place,” Margrave Edmund comments.

“Yes,” Marianne echoes.

When you travel about Leicester often, you see a lot of backwater villages. You come to realize that they’re all essentially the same. Small, wooden houses, unpaved streets, errant animals, the like. And sure enough, there’s nothing special about this one.

“Father, have we been to this village before?”

“I do not believe so, Marianne, but it is possible that I have forgotten.”

“It feels... familiar. I know its name from somewhere.”

“Hm. We may have passed through here before, on a similar trip, but I do not remember. Forgive me for saying it is not exactly a memorable place.”

The carriage hits a small bump in the cobble road. Father looks back down at his book, and Marianne turns back to the window.

They’ve entered the local market - a humble, unassuming collection of vendors and stands, mostly selling various meats or grains. Children dart back and forth, weaving through the narrow passageways. One nearly runs into the carriage, and others stop to stare at the magnificent coach. _They’re probably not used to this kind of traffic_ , Marianne guesses.

One particular stand, covered in bright orange flowers, catches her eye. The accompanying sign reads “marigolds, 5 pence.” Beside the flowers stands a woman with equally bright orange hair, conversing with the vendor. She’s carrying an ornate bow on her back, and she’s surrounded by a small crowd of excited children.

As the Edmund carriage passes, the woman turns briefly to meet it, and Marianne catches a glimpse of her face.

A face which, despite the years, she knows well. That of Leonie Pinelli.

Marianne’s eyes widen. Her hair is different, her face a bit more scarred, but there’s no doubt in her mind. This is Leo, alright. Same bold stance, same sharp profile, same half-gloved hands.

She jumps back from the window. Should she say something? Should she stop the carriage? It’s been so long since the academy - would Leonie even recognize her? Would she even care enough to say hello? Sure, they knew each other well at Garreg Mach, but - what if she’s changed? What if _Marianne’s_ changed?

She’s shaking, but she speaks up almost involuntarily. “Father! Can we stop?”

The Margrave sighs. “What for, Marianne?”

“Um, I... I would like to purchase some of the flowers from that vendor. The marigolds. I- we don’t have flowers like that in Edmund.”

“Very well, I suppose we can make a slight delay.”

“Thank you, Father!”

By the time the Margrave signals to the driver to stop, Marianne is already out the door. She nearly falls on the loose stones as she lands, carriage still moving. It’s a blessing she wasn’t wearing heels.

She straightens herself out, dusts herself off, and takes a deep breath. She looks back at Leonie, still talking with the marigold vendor. Doing her best to quell the shaking in her hands, she nervously takes a step forward. _Pull yourself together, Mari._

She’s walking. She’s putting one foot in front of the other. She’s moving in the direction of Leonie Pinelli. After almost four years, she’s looking at Leonie Whatever-Her-Middle-Name-Is Pinelli. In the flesh. Right there. In front of her.

The vendor has noticed her, but Leo hasn’t. Marianne has an elaborate sky-blue, gold-threaded dress. Her hair is cleanly braided at the back of her head. Her face is subtly padded with makeup. She’s clearly an outsider. Some of the children, too, are staring.

She breathes in once more, and drops her hands to her side. “Um, L-Leonie?”

...Leo doesn’t hear her.

She takes another step and tries again. Her voice cracks. “Leonie!”

Leo turns to meet her, and offers her a customary smile-and-wave before... returning to her business. It’s almost automatic. The villagers of Sauin know her well, and they often say hey when she’s out and ab- _wait a second._

_Blue hair. Fancy dress. Pretty face..._

She turns back around, looking the visitor up and down before it hits her.

“Marianne!?”

Mari smiles and nods. Leonie runs to meet her, breaking away from her small entourage of young admirers, and wraps her arms around her, tight. She’s strong.

She’s... she’s very strong.

Marianne is blushing when Leonie lets her go. “Oh my god, I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“I- Me neither, Leonie! I mean, I almost didn’t recognize _you._ ”

She takes the opportunity to look Leonie over again, up close. Her hair is longer, tied into a ponytail at the back, but she’s also cut it extremely short on the side. Her face and arms are marked with numerous scars. She looks... harder. Stronger. She’s been through a lot. Around her neck is a small silver-clasped necklace, the same one she wore during the academy days. It’s accentuated by the open collar of her amber jacket, its neckline plunging deep enough to... to...

Marianne suddenly realizes she’s been staring too long.

“L-Leonie, I’m sorry, I just... it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

“I know! What are you doing all the way out here?”

Leo is half tempted to hug her again. It really _has_ been years. After their time at Garreg Mach was... rather abruptly cut short, the two went their separate ways without even a proper goodbye, let alone anything resembling closure.

“I’m with my father. He’s on a mission to the Gloucester estate, and the main road was closed off. Just my luck, I guess.”

“Ah. Politics. Shoulda known. But hey, good enough luck to get you here!”

Marianne giggles. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Leonie smiles back. “Oh, Marianne, it’s been _so_ long, how _are_ you?”

“I’m... actually, I’m quite alright, how about you?”

“I’m doing just fine myself. You _look_ great!”

“Oh, um, th-thank you,” she answers, caught off-guard. She shies away a bit without realizing. “Y-you do too...”

Leonie knows what she’s doing. “Are you just passing through, or spending the night? I’d _love_ to catch up over dinner.”

“Well, we were planning on just passing through, but...” She looks up to the sun, beginning to drop towards the horizon. “I suppose I could ask my father about stopping for the night.”

“We do have an inn! And besides,” she winks, “I’m sure Lorenz can wait one more day.”

Marianne laughs again. “I’m sure he can. Let me go ask, I’ll... be right back!”

“I’ll be here.”

Leo watches her trot away, smiling to herself. _She’s changed. She laughs now._

\---

The Margrave is still buried in his book when Marianne returns, sans flowers.

“Did you decide not to buy them?” he asks, barely looking up.

“Actually, Father, I... I was wondering if we could stop here for the night.”

The book is closed. “Why?”

“Well, um... it is starting to get late... we should probably give the horses some time to rest, and get something to eat ourselves...”

The Margrave peeks out the window of the carriage. It’s not _that_ late.

“Plus, I, um... ran into a friend, from the Officers’ Academy.”

“Marianne, this is an important mission. We cannot make unnecessary delays.”

His daughter looks down dejectedly and seats herself back in the carriage, reaching for the door. “I understand.”

“...But, I suppose you’re right, it _is_ getting rather late. Is there an inn in this village?”

She gasps. “Yes, I believe so! Let me go grab Leonie, she can lead us there. Thank you, Father!”

Once again, she’s gone before he can even ask who Leonie is.

\---

Marianne is practically running back to the marigold stand. She needs a moment to catch her breath again.

Leo smirks. “Well?”

“We’re staying the night!”

“That’s great!” Leonie gives into the temptation to hug her one more time, then grabs Mari’s hand as she lets go. “Here, let me show you around...”

“Oh, actually,” Marianne interrupts, still blushing, “can you show us to the inn first? I don’t want to keep my father waiting.”

“Of course! One second...” She turns back to the group of kids and sees them off one by one. By name, even. Marianne had completely forgotten about them. Were they there the whole time?

Leonie doesn’t let go of her hand until they get back to the carriage.

Mari opens the door and clears her throat. “Leonie, this is my adoptive father, the Margrave Edmund. Father, this is my classmate from Garreg Mach, Leonie Pinelli.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Margrave.” Leonie does a fake little curtsy. She wants to make a good impression, after all.

“And you as well, madame.” The Margrave offers a small bow in response, still seated. “Are you a citizen of this village?”

“I am. I was gonna help show you around, if you’re stopping for the night.” She stands as straight as possible.

“Fantastic. Please, come in, come in.”

Marianne steps up first, then turns back to hoist her companion up. Leonie doesn’t need the help, of course, but it’s a good habit to get into.

She’s slightly taken aback when she steps inside. She hasn’t been in a coach this ornate since... well, probably since she left Garreg Mach. Dropping her bow beside her, she makes herself comfortable across from Marianne. _Very_ comfortable.

“That’s quite an elaborate weapon you have there, miss Leonie,” the Margrave comments.

“Oh, thank you! It _is_ my livelihood, after all. Gotta make it look good, ya know?”

“Of course. Would you kindly direct us to an inn?”

“Sure thing! You’ll wanna take a left ahead...”

\---

Sauin is a modest village, and the Sweetwater Inn is no exception.

The owners pour their heart and soul into it, of course. Every nook and cranny is... relatively clean. Every piece of furniture is relatively well-kept. The food, as anyone could tell you, is great, and the service is relatively good. But at the end of the day, Sauin isn’t exactly a high-demand tourist trap, and there’s only so much you can do with so little.

The door creaks as it gently swings open. The floor creaks as the Edmunds step in. The desk creaks as Leonie jumps behind it to fetch the innkeepers.

“Quite an eager girl, this Leonie,” the Margrave observes.

“Heh, yes, I suppose she is quite energetic.”

“Is she a commoner? It is rare to see people such as her at Garreg Mach.”

“Yes, she is. She met our professor’s father at a young age. She told me that many of the people in this village helped pay for her to get there.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

The Margrave continues scanning the lobby for defects while Leonie returns from the back. “So, Mrs. Ailesbury, this is my good friend Marianne, and her father, the Margrave Edmund. Do you have room for them to spend the night?”

“Ah,” the Margrave interjects. “My apologies, we would have contacted your establishment ahead of time, but we made an... impromptu change of plans. I do hope you understand.”

Mrs. Ailesbury - presumably the innkeeper - is nothing if not hospitable. “Aw, that’s no problem at all! Don’t you worry, we have plenty of space for y’all. And I take it y’all need stable space?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful. We have two horses with us, as well as a driver and a bodyguard.”

“Not a problem, dearie. We’ll have y’all all settled in in no time. How many rooms y’all need? And how about dinner?”

\---

While the Edmunds arrange the terms of their stay, Leonie helps the Sweetwater groundskeeper drag the horses to the stables. One of them is a shaggy brown beast she knows well.

“I’ll catch up with you in a second,” she tells the man as they’re finishing up. “Gonna chat with an old friend.” The groundskeeper nods, and leaves the keys on the door.

“Hey,” she says to the horse once they’re alone. “Remember me?”

Dorte exhales sharply. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She gently reaches for the horse’s nose. Despite the years, she still remembers how to approach the beast. “I’m glad Mari got to keep you after all. You’re in real good hands, ya know.”

She grabs two apples from a bucket stashed in the corner. Dorte happily takes one from her hand. “Here’s to seeing each other again sometime, yeah?”

He whinnies and suddenly nudges his head against her, nearly knocking her over. She laughs it off. _There’s_ the Dorte she knew. “Hey, hey! Calm down, will ya! Don’t worry, I’ll be back sometime. I’ll make sure of it.”

Leonie feeds the other horse and steps out to lock the stable.

“I hope so, anyway.”

\---

Before long, the Edmunds are relatively settled into one of Sweetwater’s relatively comfortable rooms, and the Ailesburys are relatively hard at work preparing them a relatively nice meal.

“Paltry little place,” the Margrave muses, relatively vexed.

“Yes,” his daughter agrees. “...Relatively.”

“I can only hope the dinner makes up for it.”

The Margrave is acutely aware of every stir and commotion in the kitchen beneath them. No respectable establishment would allow such _noise_ to perforate the floorboards. Pray that it subsides before nightfall.

He’s also aware of the creaky footsteps approaching their quarters, and the sharp rapping at their door (nothing close to soundproof, should he add). He’s aware of the awful noise made when his daughter stands up from her bed to gently crack open the door - without bothering to check the peephole first, of course, because there was none.

He’s relieved to see a familiar orange on the other side. He rarely caves to paranoia, but spending too long in a village like _this_ would endanger _anyone_ of his immense status.

“Ah! Leonie!”

“Hey! Dinner’s about ready, I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna come on down.” Leonie opens the door the rest of the way and casually rests her arm against the frame. “Oh, and you can come too, Margrave. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Oh! Sure! You go on ahead, I’ll be right down.”

She flashes that damn smirk again—“alright, but don’t keep me waiting too long...”—and slides away. Marianne twirls around to find a mirror, eagerly attending to her hair, before promptly chasing Leonie downstairs.

The better part of diplomacy is oration, the better part of oration is body language, and the Margrave Edmund is a world-renowned diplomat.

He’s acutely aware of one more thing: his daughter’s little shift in tone.

\---

The dinner, to its credit, does make up for it.

Strictly speaking, it’s nothing Marianne hasn’t had before. She’s been around the block more than a few times. She’s tasted every local pallet and flavor Leicester has to offer once or twice, but there’s something new about this little delicacy. (The Ailesburys call it “love”, but it’s mainly an Albinean spice they grow out back.)

Course, it could also be the company.

Leonie Pinelli sets her plate down, and slams her hands onto the table with almost enough enthusiasm to knock it off. “So _where_ have you been these past years?”

Marianne jumps. “Oh, just... mainly helping around with my father’s business. A lot of talking. And meetings.” “Ah, should’ve known. You nobles and your politics.” She doesn’t mean it, but just a hint of disdain seeps into that word. “You enjoy it, at least?”

“Well,” she mutters, taking a moment to confirm her father isn’t listening, “to be honest, I don’t know. It’s... I enjoy the travel, but all the talking, and arguments, and the people... I don’t think I’m really cut out for it.”

“Oh, I totally get it. I don’t think I could do it either.”

“And plus, you know I’m... not very good with people.”

As if Leonie will let this slide. “Hey, you’re doing pretty good right now! You’re better than you think, ya know.”

Marianne turns away a bit, cheeks a vivid pink. “Oh, um, that’s just... because I... you’re my friend, and I... uh...”

Oh, she’s got her now. “You know, you’re kinda cute when you’re flustered, Mari.”

Mari’s eyes go wide. “I- um...” There’s something she wants to say, but it’s not coming out, and so she hides her face in her glass again, because what else is there to do? That’s a normal reaction, right? That’s fine?

It’s fine enough for Leonie, at least. If anything, it’s what she wanted. “Well, maybe you’ll settle into politics eventually. And if not, there’s plenty other ways to make a living.”

Marianne swallows, and does her best. “M-maybe, but I believe my father really wants me to be his successor.”

“But only _you_ can decide what _you_ wanna do.”

“I... I suppose so.”

“If you don’t wanna do politics your whole life, you really don’t have to. You don’t owe them anything.”

Marianne’s gaze drifts. “I’m just afraid I wouldn’t know what else to do.”

Leonie’s doesn’t. “Oh, I’m sure you can find something. Hey, worse comes to worst, you could always just stick around with me!”

She hides again, almost instinctively, covering her face with her hand. “Um... I mean, maybe...”

Leonie takes another sip of her drink, letting the moment settle itself out.

“You’re- you’re a mercenary, right? Is that what you’re doing now?”

She smiles. It’s radiant. “Yeah. Lotta merc work these days, so I’m pretty much everywhere.” “Yes, I guess so...” “But every once in a while, I drop back here, repay some of my debts, check in with the family, yadda yadda. You’re lucky I was here when you came through. Nice timing.”

Marianne has calmed down a bit, her face noticeably less flushed. “Debts?”

“Oh, yeah, I owe pretty much everyone in this town something or other. They helped pay for me to get to Garreg Mach way back when, and I’m slowly payin’ ‘em all back.”

“Ah, is that why everyone seems to know you?”

Leonie stretches and puffs her chest out. “Yeah, I’m... sort of a celebrity round here, I guess. Lotta the kids know me, especially. I always make sure to check in with them when I come around.”

Mari giggles. “Yes, you had... quite the little audience earlier.”

“Heh, yeah, I sure did, didn’t I!” Her cheeks are ever-so-subtly pink-tinged. It almost... compliments her hair, adding a bit more contour to her face; it brings out her smile as she talks - that damn smile - and Marianne can’t help but lose herself in the-

Oh no.

Ohhhh, no.

“-rianne? You alright?”

Oh, _no_.

She tries to snap herself out of it. “Oh! Um! Yes, uh, sorry, I was just... I zoned out, for a second... um...”

“Aw, don’t worry about it.” Did she notice? Does she know? “Anyway, yeah, I wanna make sure the kids around here get the same sorta opportunity I did. To follow their dreams.”

Maybe she didn’t notice? “That’s... incredibly noble of you, Leonie.” “Well it’s only right, right? You never know if one of these kids could grow up to be the next great painter, or author, or, like... you get the idea. I just wanna make sure they have a chance to try out something other than just, hunting.”

Marianne is silent for a moment, and Leonie leans back in her chair.

“There’s not a lot of opportunity around here.” Her voice is lower, graver, all of a sudden. “Most kids get born here, live their whole lives here, and die here without even knowing what the rest of the world looks like.”

About all she can get herself to say is, “That’s awful.” She wishes she could say a bit more.

All Leonie, in her boundless verbosity, can say in response is, “Yeah.”

The pinewood walls creak slightly in the wind.

“I think... that’s part of why I’m such a big deal here. I’ve been out there, and come back.”

The sun is beginning to set. Children are being called back into their homes. Vendors in the market are closing shop, counting their meager earnings. Sauin is starting to retire. Marianne and Leonie stare at their drinks.

“But hey,” Leo says, bolting upright, “enough about all that.” She sits her elbows back on the table and brushes a hair from her face, joie de vivre shining through once more. It’s contagious. “You were saying you’re travelling a lot nowadays. You been anywhere neat lately?”

Marianne perks up again. “Oh, actually, yes! Just a few weeks ago, I joined my father on a trip all the way to Almyra...”

\---

The conversation winds down as the pair finish their meal. In the other corner of the room, Marianne’s father dines silently with his bodyguard and driver.

“Great, wasn’t it?” Leonie pipes up, wiping her face with a napkin. “The Ailesburys are great.”

Marianne mirrors the act without realizing. “Yes, it was fantastic! Please let them know I enjoyed it.”

“You could tell them yourself, you know. They’re probably right back there.”

“Oh, I mean- yes, I suppose, but-”

“Hey.” Leonie’s hand is suddenly resting on hers. “Don’t worry about it. I totally get it.”

Her hand tingles a bit.

“You wanna step outside for a minute? Get some fresh air?”

“Uh- sure. Sure.”

As Leonie practically drags Marianne away, the Edmunds’ bodyguard instinctively stands up to follow them out. The Margrave gently raises a hand to sit him down.

“Relax, Auvere. She’s a friend.”

\---

Outside, the setting sun bathes the inn in a calm scarlet. Strung along the balcony are small pots of marigolds, leaves stirring gently in the evening breeze.

“I do love these flowers,” Marianne comments. “We don’t have them back in Edmund.”

Leonie leans against the railing, gazing into the distant forest. “Aren’t they nice? You could take some home, if you wanted.”

Mari joins her. “I was considering it. I may buy some from that vendor tomorrow morning.”

“Go for it. Something to remember our little village.”

Marianne pulls her shawl a bit tighter. It’s colder than she expected.

Leo turns to look at her. “Hey, you mind if I get sincere for a second?”

“Um, of course, what is it?”

“It’s really good to see you again, Marianne. And it’s good to know you’re doing alright.”

The remark catches her off-guard. “Oh, um, it’s- it’s good to see you again too, Leonie!”

Now it’s Leonie’s turn to be nervous. She’s fidgeting slightly, trying to get the right words out in the right way. “Truth be told, I- uh, I was... really kind of concerned about you, back in the academy days. You just... you always seemed so down, and... I don’t know. I was just worried about you. We all were. All your friends.”

“Oh- um... I...”

“Sorry, I know this is kinda weird, but I just... I’m really, really glad to know you’re doing better now, is all. Or at least, you seem to be.”

Marianne is hiding her face one more time. “I... um, th-thank you, Leonie... I’m sorry, I- I don’t really know what to say, I...”

Leonie finds herself taking Mari’s hand again. They’re both shaking, now. It feels different this time.

“Marianne, I... I just want you to know, that... that you will _always_ have people in your life who... who love you, and support you, and... just, no matter what happens.”

“Wh-where is this coming from, Leonie... I mean, I- I’m...”

Their errant eyes meet for a split second, and they freeze. Everything is frozen. They’re alone now - no Sweetwater Inn, no Sauin Village, no Gloucester envoy, no Leicester Alliance. Leonie and Marianne stand alone in a field of orange flowers.

Someone leans in first. Neither knows who it is. The motion is automatic, instinctive, as if gravity itself is working to pull them in.

Petals swirl through the air around them. They’re alone. Just Leonie and Marianne in a field of orange flowers.

They’re still shaking when Marianne pulls back, when they open their eyes and return to the balcony. She’s wordless, in shock, trying to process what just happened.

Leonie snaps out of it, eyes wide in realization. “Oh- oh my god, Marianne, I’m so sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me, I just-”

She shuts up when Mari wraps her arms around her, tight. Small tears have formed at the corners of her gray-brown eyes.

“Leonie...”

The sun dips below the trees. A single petal drops from a single flower, carried by the breeze to the railing beside her. It matches Leo’s hair.

“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> just in time for International Lesbian Day (but not nearly in time for the Great Fódlan Bakeoff) here's a happy little reunion. Leonie's haircut was inspired by [this cute little artwork](https://twitter.com/boomcrunch3r/status/1298446404185198595?s=20) by boomcrunch3r on Twitter. I was also looking at [this art](https://twitter.com/foxkunkun/status/1309524792521814016) a lot while working on this fic, and you should too it's cute.
> 
> follow _me_ on twitter @ [castamyre](https://twitter.com/castamyre) for epic fun hilarious great times


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